


Best Kept Secret

by Reapers-Carino (SweetKimchii)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Double Agents, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heartbreak, Lies, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love, Need, Omega Original Character, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Practically married, Reconciliation, Rekindling, Sadness, Secrets, Spy - Freeform, Spying, Talon Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetKimchii/pseuds/Reapers-Carino
Summary: 'Be aware that most secrets come with a price tag that you may not be aware of, however, at some point you will have to pay...weigh your choices carefully.'- Sheryl GriffinBlackwatch didn't officially exist. They were the answer to what Overwatch couldn't and wouldn't do, the necessary evil to foil their overwhelming goodness. As the years rolled by and the lines between right and wrong, necessary and superfluous began to blur, Gabriel Reyes became more and more suspicious of the United Nation's lead organization. Compiling lists of names, crimes and evidence, Gabriel gave his mate a part of his list before sending her away the day the Swiss headquarters was blown up.Two years after the explosion and two years after the death of the Blackwatch commander, someone has begun taking up his investigative work and assassinating the names of those on his list.  His mate intends to find out who.





	1. Best Kept Secret

“I need you to check out a lead for me, mi reina.”

 

Gabe looked tired. 

 

So goddamned tired.

 

Serena hadn’t know what to expect when Gabriel had called her to his office so early in the morning, her heart aching as she looked over her mate, her Alpha. She could see the exhaustion in his features; his shoulders sagged, bags heavy beneath his eyes, his head barely held up by two of his fingers. Blackwatch demanded that a toll be paid and Gabriel had paid it in spades; the mirth, happiness and pride that had once filled his brown eyes replaced by mistrust, pain and a soul-crushing sadness. Whether SEP injections or the melanin within his skin, age didn’t show easy on his face but in his eyes it look like the man had seen and experienced enough to have lived centuries.  

 

Serena envied the members of Overwatch, envied their sister organization’s ability to believe their actions were benevolent and that they were the peacemakers the world made them out to be. She remembered having that naivety, recruited to espionage and spying, believing her skills would be used to better the world in only the ways Overwatch had become known for. But Blackwatch had stolen those rose-colored glasses from her. Years of deep cover, assassinations, espionage, doing what was necessary to get the mission done had stripped both the Alpha and omega of any feelings of righteousness. 

 

Blackwatch was the answer to questionable missions that Overwatch couldn’t do, to handlings that Overwatch couldn’t manage or dealing with terrorists before they became a bigger issue than what they were. Just as every righteous government of a major world power had their shadow organization, the United Nations had Blackwatch. Initially, no one within the Blackwatch sector harbored any ill will, understanding that difficult choices had to be made and choices had to be taken in order to secure the overall safety of the world. But as the years had grinded on the line of necessity began to grow murky before turning outright fluid, invisible. As friends, comrades, brothers-in-arms fell to a cause that no longer had a clear outcome, the confidence of the entire organization shuddered. And it fell squarely on Gabriel shoulders to hold it up. 

 

He rallied his pack back together, told them to believe in one another rather than their cause, all while covertly gathering information on the holders of their reins. The deeper he dug, the fewer people he realized he could trust, the darker and more sinister this entirety of Overwatch and Blackwatch appeared. Jesse and Serena had been the only two privy to this knowledge; the only people he could trust without a doubt as he dug. Initially, Gabe had tried to include Jack but the Overwatch commandeer was having absolutely none of it. Jack’s trust in Overwatch was unwavering, the ‘breadcrumbs’ that Gabriel brought him not enough to deter his stance on the organization’s necessity. Their arguments became volatile, the two Alphas growling and posturing, their twenty-plus year friendship disintegrating under the weight of disbelief and accusations. Attacks against knowledge turned into attacks on personal character, vitriolic hatred saved for their worst enemies suddenly hurled at someone who was practically blood. It only grew worse when the leaks started. 

 

Details about failed missions, stolen or leaked schematics of hypothetical super weapons, partial mission statements and death records of civilian, terrorist and Overwatch agent revealed amongst hundreds of other documents. Ambivalence had fallen over the organization that had once been beloved which soon turned to utter mistrust when the existence of Blackwatch was revealed. External fights became internal, turning friend against friend and soldier against soldier. Jack and Gabe were barely holding their organizations together, each organization crumbling from the inside out. Between the sensitive leaked information about Overwatch, deaths of prominent Overwatch agents, the reveal of the existence of Blackwatch, the world had started a witch hunt and it was time to get the hell out of dodge. Jesse had left first with Gabriel’s blessing, but his protege couldn’t convince the Blackwatch leader to leave himself and Serena refused to forced out without her mate. 

 

Moving across the room, Serena’s hands lightly twisted his chair so the man could face her. She moved into his space, arms wrapping around his neck, gently pushing his head to her shoulder. His hands encircled her waist, squeezing tighter and tighter as if he was afraid she might disappear if he loosened his grip, pressing his face against her scent glands and inhaling deeply, soaking in her calming energy. Serena’s fingers lifted, gently combing through the thicket of black curls on his head, the warm, comforting action combined with her scent easing some of the tension out of his body. The both of them stood that way for several moments before Serena leaned back in his arms, hands dragging from his hair and to his face, pulling him away from her neck to look him in the eyes. Her milk brown eyes stared into his darker ones, her thumbs rubbing his jaw in small, soothing circles. 

 

“I got you my king”, she responded softly, nodding assuredly. “What do you need me to do?”

* * *

 

Overwatch may have had many issues but if there was one factor everyone could agree with, they ensured all agents were treated equally. When one was recruited, it wasn't as an Alpha or omega or beta, it was as an agent with a recognized and appreciated set of skills that could be utilized for the betterment of the world. That is how Serena had earned her spot as the lieutenant commander of Blackwatch, head of the espionage and infiltration unit. 

 

She was a proud omega, her classification as important to her as being a Black or a woman or from ‘Charm City’. Being an omega wasn’t a weakness to be looked down upon but was something she had turned into her greatest strengths. Omegas were unique position of being highly sought after while still being mildly invisible, especially to the overconfident or unassuming Alpha. At first glance they weren’t threatening; they were soft and demure, submissive and accommodating, the soft to an Alpha’s hard. Of course, while there were truths in those stereotypes, omegas came in every flavor and personality one could imagine. But it didn’t matter what was the truth, especially in espionage. As long as they believed it was true, Serena knew she could take advantage of them. The cutting edge technology that Overwatch provided them with assisted her with that as well. 

 

The hard light technology of the Vishkar Corporation had been repurposed into a wearable holographic jewelry, hers’ a pendant that Gabriel had fashioned into a choker on one of their anniversaries. It projected a physical hard light hologram over her entire body, allowing her to completely conceal and change her appearance to her liking or necessity as well as masking her scent from all but her mate. While the appearance altering function was unable to withstand the high paced movement of combat, it was the perfect tool for infiltrating parties, homes, gangs or corporations. The times she did get into a pinch, she was fortunate that the appearance altering construct would drop and switch to a personal shield. Although, it appeared that neither one of those functions would be quite necessary today. 

 

Gabriel had sent Serena to France, had told her that there was a lead in Lyon that may help finally bring to light what was actually happening and who might be causing the schism in their organizations. The building, however, was undistinguished, old and two-stories tall and empty as far as the petite omega could tell. She wandered through the building warily, her microgun unholstered and in hand, prepared to open fire on anything or anyone that stepped out. But with each room she could feel her guard dropping, the empty room completely cleared of anything but dust, dirt and the occasional stray cat. Pulling her hand away from the gun, Serena pushed her hand through her hair with a quiet, vexed sigh. There was only one set of rooms left to go in, and she had yet to sign in. Gabriel always vetted his sources, he hated chasing his own ass and hated wasting time so she  _ knew _ there had to be  _ something  _ here. 

 

‘He needs a break’, Serena thought to herself as she passed through the threshold of room on the right. ‘He’s starting to lose--what was that?’

 

The sound of technology whirring up yanked the warm sepia-skinned woman out of her thoughts, body shifting into a battle stance. Her gaze was sharp as it scanned over the room, her thumb flicking the cover of the trigger to the microgun, cautiously moving further into the room. Maybe he hadn’t been wrong. 

 

“Ey!”

 

Serena’s body slid backwards as a beam of light shot up from the middle of the floor, the high-pitched whirring of the gun giving way to the sound of bullets. The bullets sliced through the light smoothly, the noise filling the room as her ammo embedded itself in the opposite concrete wall. The light flickered for a moment before morphing into a familiar shape--Gabriel Reyes. Incredulity settled on Serena’s features, her brow furrowing as she moved closer, he gun dropping as she stared into the pale life-sized version of the Blackwatch Commander. Slipping her gun back into its holster across her back, Serena moved closer, examining the projection. It wasn’t live, the hologram didn’t follow Serena as she walked from left to right, her hand waving in front of its face questioningly. 

 

“What the hell are you playing at Gabe?”

 

“Hey princesita.”

 

A cold chill ran down her spine, a stone settling in her stomach as the nickname hung heavy in the air. He had only called her princesita when there was bad news; when they had found out about Ana, after a botched mission where she miscarried a child she didn’t know she was carrying. He always said that nickname in that sweet and soft voice of his, trying, even through the call, to forcibly calm his omega. It, unfortunately, didn’t work, a ball of panic rising in her chest, her hands shaking as they unconsciously grazed over her mating mark. 

 

“I tricked you”, he said, a sweet tenderness in his voice that made her heart feel as if it was physically breaking, an unheard keen starting in her throat. “I know you, even better than you know yourself, cariño. If you knew what I had found, you wouldn’t have left. You could have gotten hurt and I will be damned if I let you d--if I let you get hurt because of  _ this _ bullshit. You mean  _ too  _ much to me.”

 

He choked on the word before he spit out the rest of his sentence in a clipped tone, the hologram’s face contorting into pained anger before it scaled back into exhausted pain. Heart drumming in her chest, Serena moved closer to the hologram, practically chest to chest as she stared it in the face. He was trying to fall on the grenade, to take the brunt of whatever went wrong while protecting all those around him. But this wasn’t fair. 

 

“Gabriel”, she breathed out, distress clear and heavy in her voice as she tried to reason with the hologram. “We promised...we’re mates, you don’t do this baby. We are supposed to do everything together...please…Whatever is going on it’s you and me against the world, remember? You and me!”

 

Her begging had turned to yelling, a painful hiccup cutting off her breath as anguished tears rolled down her cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. It just...couldn’t. The hologram didn’t respond to her shouting but paused, the expression frozen until her sobs quieted for half a second. 

 

“By the time you wake up”, he started again, his practiced speech making your brow furrow in confusion. “All of this should be over. I don’t know how bad it’s going to get, but I’ve got you. Money, cover, living arrangement. Only McCree knows about this, okay? Take this shit and go.  Don’t be stubborn, just listen to me. Alright? Just this once....If they get close, burn the ring”

 

A harsh sob racked through her body, an ocean of emotion hitting her all at once. Anger, disbelief, anguish, fear, heartbreak, realization tickling quietly at the back of her head. 

 

‘By the time you wake up’. What did that mean?

 

The hologram disappeared all at once before gas began to emit from the device, Serena’s eyes going round. Her hands dove into the bag on her waist, going for the gas mask she kept on her side for when she used her nightshade ammo. ‘Shit.’ Her hand faltered as it grabbed the zipper, the woman trying to force her eyes to stay open as she yanked the pouch open. Serena’s right knee dropped to the floor, her body wobbling as she fought against the gas to stay upright. She cursed him mentally as her fingers stopped cooperating, cursed him again as her other knee came crashing down to the floor and her body fell to the side, cursing him once more for sending her away when she knew he needed her. Her final thoughts were consumed with weakening keening sobs and angry thoughts of how much she loved the man that had forced her away to protect her. Her eyes slipped shut as the gaseous concoction finally did its job, her body sprawled out on the dirty floor. 


	2. Hidden in Plain Sight

Serena woke to the quiet beeping of her alarm, the insistent noise growing in volume until she turned the device off with a slap. She stared at the ceiling blankly, eyes bleary and unfocused as she tried to chase the sleep from her mind. Forcing herself onto her side a grunt tumbled from her lips, her hand listlessly pushing the silk scarf from her hair. She hated dreaming. She had a vivid imagination, memories of years long since past recalled easily in her unconscious hours. Usually dreams of the Crisis plagued her; bodies blown apart by Bastion units, limbs crushed by Omnic fists, civilians and soldier alike falling victim to the violent hand of those cybernetic monstrosities. Serena thought it funny, in a bemusing kind of way, that now they asked for rights and held peace summits and spoke of a unified world like it wasn’t them that had torn it apart. But those weren’t the dreams that plagued her the most. 

 

At least with dreams like those, she had closure. The war was over. The Omnics, even if she didn’t trust them, had regained their own sentience and she hadn’t heard any stories of farmer’s markets being assaulted by them for being a center of human interaction. It was slowly lulling the world into a dubious sense of security. But no, those were not the dreams she hated the most. The dreams that tortured her the most were the ones of that day. When she dreamt of her last few moments with her mate, of the trap that he had sprung on her. Of regaining consciousness in an unfamiliar home to news that the Swiss headquarters had been blown up. The list of the dead grew ever longer behind her closed lids until two names joined it and her heart broke all over again. Gabriel Reyes was branded a traitor and Jack Morrison, fearless commander, felled in the line of duty. During waking hours, she was able to distract herself but while asleep she was painfully reminded that she had lost her mate. 

 

Losing a mate was much like losing a limb, it had often been described, but much much deeper. Mating marks brought pairs together physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually; tying two people together so tightly that they were bonded forever. Losing a part of that bond could ruin people and it was only compounded with Serena. Gabriel’s body had never been recovered, just leaving the woman with more unanswered questions and absolutely no closure. Jack’s body hadn’t been found either. Just like Ana. Just like Amelie. 

 

Serena pushed herself up, groaning softly as her joints complained yet again, nose scrunching up in mild annoyance. She wasn’t young anymore, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit to being old. She was a ‘spry’ 45 years young and while she did get the occasional ache, they didn’t stop her from doing all the things she had when she was young. Stretching her arms high into the air, a relieved grunt tumbled from her lips at the sound of her back cracking. Dropping her arms, she scratched at her face before forcing her feet onto the floor. Time to start her routine. 

 

She moved on autopilot, running through her morning calisthenics first and foremost. Stretching, 30 minutes of yoga, a two mile run on the treadmill and then a quick shower to wash the sweat from her body. By the time she stepped out of the shower, the high tech shuttered glass windows had cracked open, the subtle warmth of the January morning beginning to bleed into the house. The house Gabriel had set aside for her was located in the southern tip of Florida, tucked into some unsuspecting little city that was less than an hour away from the beach. The small yellow bungalow had almost everything either one of them had idly talked about when speaking about their future, the man providing you with the near perfect home. One story, three bedrooms, a wraparound porch, and yard filled with brightly colored flowers and shrubbery and three palm trees. Technology had been integrated into the home; appliances, security and upkeep all handled through the same system that could be run through various holopad around the home. It was lovely and nice and should have been enough for her, but her heart constantly ached and yearned for a mate she knew wouldn’t show up. 

 

Wandering into the kitchen, Serena sighed as the smell of Mexican dark roast swirled around her, the aromatic, spicy aroma making her mouth water. Pouring a cup, a melancholic smile pulled at her lips as Gabriel’s voice tickled at the back of her mind. ‘Cariño you’re ruining the flavor. Six sugars is too damn much, it’s better black.’ Then they’d bicker back and forth until one would silence the other with coffee-flavored kisses. Sighing wistfully, she forced the ache for more down before moving to make breakfast. Vegetables from your garden, an avocado from the farmer market, all tossed together with eggs. Like most of her movements that morning she moved into auto-pilot, settling down at the small island in the center of her kitchen and pulling up a holopad that ran through a private VPN. Bringing a forkful of her breakfast to her mouth, she swiped across the screen, several news stories scrolling across the translucent monitor. 

 

‘Former Overwatch CFO, Greta Zaytseva, Found Dead in Ankara Home’

 

‘Reported Sightings of ‘Reaper’ Figure Increase’

 

‘Private Plane Crashes, Killing Six’

 

‘Commemoration Ceremony for the Second Anniversary of the Overwatch: Geneva Campus Bombing Takes Place Despite Protests and Threats of Violence’

 

Serena hummed low in her throat, eyes scanning over the holopad, highlighting the occasional name and swiping them to join others in a spreadsheet she had prepared to the side. The list held the names of Overwatch agents of affiliates who had been murdered or gone missing, all thought to be the work of terrorists. Radicals whose goals were to snuff out who and what remained of the once infallible Overwatch, to drive another nail through the coffin of the deceitful organization. As far as Serena could tell, they were wrong. All of that had been killed corresponded to the list Gabriel had been populating before his death. The names of outright traitors; those who accepted bribes from drug cartels, worked with anti- or pro-Omnic terrorist groups, sold their allegiance to the highest bidder or any other number of illegal or reprehensible actions.

 

Grief had prevented her from seeing the connections at first. She had been knocked out in Europe and woke in North America; overwrought, anxious and frantic. Gabriel had assigned Jesse to move her, the younger Alpha, who was more like a son to her, crooning and humming to calm the frenzied omega down. The home smelt of Gabe, god did it smell of him, but when Serena went searching for him she wasn’t able to find him. Just their blankets and his clothing and things he had scented so heavily she sat intoxicated in a room he had made to turn into a nest. She’d spent weeks like that, Jesse barely getting her to eat and drink, her body going through the painful grieving process. It was a month before she’d eat of her own volition, four before Jesse finally felt safe leaving her on her own, the omega sending the young man away with the promise to stay in contact. 

 

It was nine months after the explosions when bodies began to drop, all with some connection to Overwatch. While Serena had gone radio silent after the explosion, only letting those closest to her know that she was still alive, she sent a rudimentary check out to every clean agent she still had records of. They all responded with varying messages of concern and worry for her well-being but they all said that they were safe, that no direct threats had been leveled at them. Lena, Angela, Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Fareeha, Winston, even Jesse. All high-profile former agents, most who still remained in the public eye and none who had faced any direct peril to their life. 

 

She couldn’t shake the feeling of suspicion when she learned this information and it was only confirmed when a name finally crossed the headlines fourteen months post explosion. An unassuming one, just a secretary that had been a liaison between Overwatch and the United Nations, Ju Yang. He had been found dead inside of his flat; shot several times at close range with shotguns, the body damn near exsanguinated. It was brutal and violent and grabbed headlines briefly for a week with speculation before fading into the background. The man had been selling information about Overwatch agents to Volskaya Industries, leading to several deaths and ambushed peace talks. He was the reason Suzanne’s son didn’t have a mother anymore and she knew that she wouldn’t forget that name. But he was a relative nobody to the rest of the world and that is what got her mind moving. What pushed her into motion to investigate the murders happening around the world. 

 

Someone was murdering people from Gabriel’s list, names that only she and a dead man had access to. She had initially taken it to be coincidental but as list of the dead grew longer and the list of those she knew were still alive were never touched, it became obvious that someone had stolen Gabriel’s list. Serena absentmindedly twisted the shined obsidian band on her finger, one of a matching pair that only she and Gabriel owned. It was their key of knowledge, an unimpressive piece of jewelry with a near archaic piece of technology built into it, an NFC chip that was coded to be readable only by a singular device owned by you or Gabriel. The same device that looked to be innocently filled with pictures of the two of them. But when the ring and tablet were used together, they would reveal a files that contained terabytes of incriminating information against the United Nation, world governments, business leaders, Overwatch agents, Blackwatch agents, criminals and the like. Evidence to prove their wrongdoings, evidence that could bring powerful people to their knees. All things Gabriel had intended to do with Jack until the explosion…

 

Dropping her fork on her plate, Serena stretched her neck from side to side, sighing low in her throat. She didn’t care that these people were dying nor that there was a psychopathic serial killer draining people of their life. She cared that whoever was following this list had stolen it from the body of her mate, had desecrated his remains and disrespected his death. She intended to find out who. 


	3. Hunting Death

“Welcome to Cuba miss, is this trip for business or pleasure?”

 

“Why a little bit of both dear”, Serena said with a wink, pushing an overly processed blonde hair out of her face and behind her ear. She giggled in a boozy manner, a practiced overly friendly smile on her lips, a forced twinkle in her eyes. “But you can mark me down for pleasure!”

 

The petite tan-skinned woman at the customs counter gave a practiced smile that perfectly concealed her exasperation with the ‘drunk’ customer Serena was portraying. Absolutely no one enjoyed speaking with the customer who had drank one too many while on a flight, preferring to hurry them along to whatever cab may be waiting for them and to go about their day. No one really remembered the drunk ones after enough time in. Not that they'd be able to recognize her anyway; Serena had her hard light pendant activated. Her appearance was that of a bottle blonde 50-, possibly 60-something, white woman with skin so tanned it looked leathery. Between the obnoxiously bright sundress and large sun hat, falsified image and forged documentation, she was virtually invisible amongst all the other tourists. The customs agent scanned the e-passport Serena had handed her back with crisp precision, waiting for something on her holoscreen to change before sliding back to the veiled woman. 

 

“Thank you for your patience and welcome to Cuba, miss.”

 

“Muchas gra-si-ass”, Serena over pronounced, before giggling as she took the passport and slipped it into her large travel bag. She gave the other woman one last big smile, waving her fingers in farewell before sauntering away with a small switch in her hips. The omega hummed softly to herself, pulling a navy blue wheeled hardshell luggage bag that was filled filled with clothing, perfumes, ceramic microgun pieces and ammo. Serena always celebrated the small perk of having such a compact weapon, it was easily reproducible from her private blueprints and virtually undetectable. 

 

Stepping out of the airport, she looked around, smiling wistfully. Serena hadn’t been to Havana in over a decade but it had barely changed since the last time she had visited. She had been on a mission to retrieve sensitive information from some kind of warlord back then. Sweet talk him, become his ‘companion’, drug and steal information he had on a possible Omnic rebellion that Blackwatch was sure he was funding. Gabriel had accompanied her as a personal guard, goatee shaved which made him unrecognizable to the general public. Officially it had been a mission that had taken them a week to finish. Unofficially, it was a vacation Serena had begged Gabriel to go on, the mark already dead and information gathered by the time the both of them had reached the island country, compliments of Ana. They’d spent the week basking in the sunlight and ocean water and architecture, happily consuming any and all flavorful foods or drinks they could get their hands on and making love any and all chances they could. For seven and a half days they weren’t the Commander of Blackwatch or head of Blackwatch infiltration and espionage unit, they were Serena and Gabriel; younger mates and in love and free if only for a moment. She could remember the taste of rum and mint and lime on his lips as he kissed her, his growled playful ‘te amo’s against her skin as he held her tight. How he marked her again, promising her forever as she cried and moaned beneath him.

 

Serena tore herself from her thoughts of the past, tears burning traitorously in her yes. She didn’t have time to cry again, that could happen after she found the bastard that had Gabriel’s ring. Anger forced the rest of the tears out of her eyes, her steps picking up as she hailed a hovercab and offhandedly typed in the location of the rental home into the GPS. She had at least an hour’s trip to think about the same bastard that brought her here. 

 

It had taken almost a month, with international and Omnic assistance, to completely clean up the decimated Geneva Headquarters. The bodies of Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes had never been recovered but there had been no doubt both men had died according to the clean-up crews that reported from the site. Blood had been found; four liters of Gabe’s with more probably soaked into the debris and less of Jack’s. Nonetheless, there was no way either one of them had survived the incident without immediate intervention. Still, the lack of even a decimated torso or a severed leg or even a blown up finger read as suspicious. Serena had seen enough explosions in their line of work to known there were always remains, not always in the presentable manner but remains nonetheless. 

 

The wreckage had round the clock guard detail but it was obvious that this Reaper figure, or whomever ployed him, had managed to infiltrate the area. Whether they were keeping the bodies as trophies as their triumph over the faces of Overwatch or for some darker, more sinister reasonings, she were unsure. But Serena planned to find out soon enough if her predictions were correct. 

 

The Reaper had been following Gabriel’s list methodically; it made his pattern look erratic, haphazard to the outside observer. He’d make a hit in France one night before killing someone in Venezuela the day after only to double back to Luxembourg for another hit. Fortunately, Serena had her obsidian key, cluing her into exactly where he would be next. As long as he didn’t deviate from his plan, his next hit would be a man by the name of Declan Anderson; an Englishman who had been one of the top private funders for Overwatch. His lucrative donations encouraged the United Nations to ‘overlook’ the many human rights violations his company was accused of; human labor trafficking, wage slavery, providing terroristic materials to organizations in third world countries to facilitate and maintain their workforces. There were also quiet whisperings that he may have begun conduct business with Talon. Any proposed attempts Blackwatch had made to stop or prevent his actions had been actively discouraged or denied by the United Nations, the organization constantly citing ‘lack of evidence’. Apparently the photos of starved children, mutilated adults and butchered towns weren’t enough, leaving the alpha furious. But if their records were correct, it would seem it was time for Declan to pay the piper. 

  
  


Anderson owned several homes internationally but was especially fond of his one in Havana. It was a Cuban colonial-styled building; large arches set in creamy yellow colored stones, restored to look freshly built externally and updated with the latest technology inside. The building helped to stroke his ego; it garnered him several interviews internationally for home and interior design shows and magazines as well as accolades for the soirees and parties he held there. That was her way onto the property tonight. Slip into the party and then wait to see if the Reaper showed his face.

 

“You have arrived at your destination. Your trip’s total is 40 pesos.”

 

Blinking several times as she was pulled back into reality, Serena rifled through her travel bag, pulling out cash and slipping the bills into them into the illuminated slot in the back of the autonomous taxi. Slipping out of the vehicle, the petite omega rolled her shoulders, pulling out the rest of her luggage.

 

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

 

Preening was cathartic to Serena, an omega typecast that she was more than happy to indulge in and prove correct. Subtly altering her appearance to beautify and refine her features, accentuating only what she knew would entice. Serena had decided against using her pendant’s appearance alterer today. No, if she was going to take down the Reaper she wanted him to see her face; to see the face of Gabriel Reyes’ mate as she struck him down for dishonoring the dead. So she had to look good when she killed death.

 

Turning her head from left to right, Serena’s eyes danced over her features, silently appraising her own look. Her foundation made her warm red-umber skin appear dewy giving her a glowing, youthful look. A warm pink-brown blush was swept across the apples of her cheeks, a shimmering gold highlight swiped across the apex of her cheekbones and her rounded nose. Her lids were dusted in shades of purple, pastel towards the inner corners and wine colored towards the outer, a line of black above the lash line making her downturned eyes appear large and cat-like. False lashes were carefully applied amongst her real ones, mascara applied to make them appear fuller and thicker. She had paid special attention to her full lips; a deep sangria colored lipstick applied with a smattering of gold film at the center of her bottom lip.

 

Every facet of her appearance had been created to entice but she had Gabriel in mind with each move. Purple was his favorite color, followed closely by black, the Blackwatch leader loving every shade from lilac to eggplant. Gabriel had told her for years how much he enjoyed how gold looked against her skin, the metallic yellow beautiful against the rich browns in their skin or so he said. Serena’s had styled her hair into Havana twists, the thick two-strand twists falling just above the small of her back, gold beads placed randomly throughout the braided locks. Her pendant still remained on, the multi-purpose jewelry a symbol of their love and the cause he had died for. Serena hummed softly as she decided that her appearance would do. 

 

Ethereal, sultry, alluring. All things that an Alpha like Declan would enjoy in an unexpected omega party crasher. Serena slid from the hovering stool she had been seated on, moving towards the dress that hung loosely on the floating dress form. A sleeveless bodice with a sweetheart neckline, an a-line chiffon ball gown that was a brilliant shade of deep plum. The dress was subtle in its elegance, no fancy jeweled embellishments, just a tailored bodice to lift her bosom and a skirt loose and flowy enough to complete conceal her weapon and ammo. Her re-assembled microgun rested on the bed, the long folded belt of ceramic ammo curled around itself. The ammo would tuck into a pocket in the black girdle she wore before wrapping around her waist, beneath the full fabric, and feed into the holstered microgun she’d have hidden on her thigh. Completely hidden and virtually undetectable when ran through scanners, compliments of the Overwatch R&D department. 

 

“Let’s hope this pans out”, Serena murmured softly to herself, beginning the arduous task of securing her weapon to her body and fitting the fashionable dress over her body. 

 

It took some adjusting but the fabric finally fell in a way that allowed her to move without her gun leaving an obvious imprint. She had triple checked that the safety was on, her ammo was being properly fed into the weapon and that the fabric wouldn’t snag, twirling around experimentally to assure she was covered from all angles. Nodding approvingly, Serena’s hand lifted and gently ran over the jewel that sat at her throat, saying a silent prayer before heading for the door. Time to dance with the devil so she could greet death.

* * *

 

Slipping into the party had been effortless, a coy look and a smile from the sweet omega melting the defensive attitudes the guards had. A soft purr, a gentle touch of the arm, a sweet stare through her lashes and she was being gently escorted in. The ballroom had been filled to the brim, bodies spilling out into side rooms and hallways as people reveled in the free drinks and hors d'oeuvres and other ‘favors’ that Serena politely declined with a demure giggle and a practiced gait away. Serena spotted Declan as soon as she arrived, the man flanked by a stunning omega on each arm, wandering around the party and greeting guests boastfully. Tucking herself into the corner, Serena prepared herself for the long haul only to have chaos explode within minutes. 

 

A smoke grenade landed with a spin in the center of the dance floor, bewildered murmurs giving way to startled shouts as the acrid smoke began to reach their noses. Serena pushed herself further into a corner in the back of the room as people became hysteric; her hand reaching down to tear at the fabric of her dress, pressing the cloth to her face. If she moved she could be pushed down or trampled, people’s flight or fight responses demanding that they get away from danger. Although, it appeared that Declan’s response was deaded by over-confidence, the man choosing to surround himself with his personal guard instead of retreat. 

 

‘Idiot.’

 

Serena bounced on the balls of her feet as muscle memory began to kick in, honed instincts allowing her to analyze the dangerous, chaotic scene. There were still partygoers scattered about, some who had fainted or were sickened by the gas, others who had been pushed down or trampled, some stuck in place by shock. Declan’s guards were dressed in black slacks and turtlenecks, the bulkiness around their chests indicating they had ballistic underarmor on. The two closest to the Englishman held M9 pistols, those further out holding onto various semi-automatic rifles, pointed down with the safeties off. They were prepared for a firefight and it looked like their opponent was too. Serena edged around the room carefully, stepping over broken glass and felled bodies with care until she could get a good look at the Reaper. A shudder of anger rushed down her spine as she finally got a good look at the man, a low growl building in her throat. 

 

This was man was the object of her malice and abhorrence and seeing him in person only solidified her repugnance for the man. The whole Reaper nickname wasn’t a facade, the man was dressed in a black trenchcoat that almost touched the floor. A bone white mask rested over his face, whether for protection, identity concealment or both she couldn’t tell from this far away.  His body armor was simple and black yet shined, the lack of nicks and scratches drawing Serena to the conclusion that he either fairly well-off or--the much deadlier option--no one had gotten a hit off on him. She’d have to change that. Eyes continuing to dance over his form, Serena felt her stomach twist hard with disgust, it becoming more and more apparent that this man was a thorough copycat. He wielded double shotguns, their design newer and with silver flair and embellishments but still the trademark weapon of her ex-mate. Bile and unquenchable rage burned hot through Serena’s body, her hands dropping quickly to pull the dress of her skirt to the side and unholstering her weapon. Around his waist, practically mockingly so, was a gift she had given to the man after several months of working together. A spiked black belt that hung loosely off the side rather than within belt loops. The perfect gift for the perfect goth she had teased, the man stating that it would take one to know one. He would tease that was when she had begun courting him, and she would tease him about the fact he never took it off regardless. And here it hung on the waist of some sick bastard that had looted the body of her mate. He was going to die. 

 

Blood roared in her ears as rage and emotions drove tactics and strategy away, Serena’s hands wrapping tight around the handle of her microgun as she surged forward. She didn’t hear the startled sound of Declan’s guards or the sound of half of their weapons shifting from the Reaper to her. Her mind was hyperfocused on the Reaper; focused on making him tell her what he did with the body, focused on hurting him for looting Gabriel’s broken body, focused on killing him for taking away what little comfort burying him could have brought. Serena stood to the left of the room, putting herself indirectly between the assassin and his target. The Reaper disregarded her, his eyes--if the direction that he was facing was any indicator--were honed in on Declan still. 

 

“Death comes for all”, the Reaper said simply, lifting both of his arms and levelling his guns at the Englishman, his fingers on the triggers. 

 

Serena snapped back into reality partially when she realized that all the weapons in the room had turned back to the Reaper figure. Bloodlust demanded she killed him, let him be killed, have him pay for his sins. But if she allowed them to take it out, she knew that she would never get the answers she craved, she needed. 

 

“Hey!”

 

Her screamed echoed of of the walls of the near empty ballroom, Declan and his eight guards and the Reaper all turning to look at the fancily dressed interloper. Her hand slid up and over her pendant, activating the invisible shielding feature the accessory provided, just in case ony of their trigger fingers itched. Serena rolled her shoulders back, confidence in her gait as she moved further into the center of the room, Declan’s crew a few meters behind her and the Reaper several more meters in front of her. Staring into the black eyeholes of the mask, Serena fixed the Reaper with a vicious glare before glancing over her shoulders.

 

“I don’t have any issues with you”, she clipped out, head quickly turning to make sure the Reaper hadn’t moved before glancing backwards once more. “And I really don’t give two fucks if you kill one another in a blaze of fucking glory. I’d actually really like that. But I have several questions for this bastard right here and I intend to have them answered, so before you pop off, I want my chance with him.”

 

“Listen here sweetheart”, one of the guards to Declan’s left started, switching between aiming at Serena’s back and Reaper’s torso. “The only guy we take orders from is right here. You’re lucky we didn’t pump you fulla led as soon as you pulled out that little gun of yours. So you can get the fuck outta the way or you can die right alongside this assclown, the choice is yours.”

 

“He has information about my mate”, Serena snipped out, voice growing low and feral, the ominous growl of a pissed off omega sending shivers through the men at her back. She had absolutely no patience for the posturing bullshit, even in the middle of a soon-to-be battlefield. It was a clear sign that she wouldn’t be cowed by these men, her eyes flashing dangerously at them. Unease gave way to impudence, the men snickering at the ‘upset’ and ‘emotional’ omega with a gun in a room full of highly trained people. They were undervaluing her skills, something she was used, but she wouldn’t allow them to take away this chance. “Until I get my information, I’m  _ not  _ moving. My patiences is wearing very thin, so unless you have the answers I’m looking for, you can  _ wait _ .”

 

Serena turned back to Reaper, that snarl that was building in her throat turning her words sharp and short.

 

“Where. Is. His. Body?”

 

The Reaper barely twisted his masked face to look at her, the slow movement unsettling  but Serena refused to back down. Anger and anguish thrashed inside of her like a tornado,her brow furrowing deeper and deeper as the man stared, unspeaking. Her hand tightened on the handle of her weapon, squeezing tight enough to pale her darker skin, the sound of her racing heart filling her ears. Serena’s chest began to rise and fall faster, agony clawing at her chest and lung, taking a few steps forward and flipping up the cover to the trigger of her microgun.

 

“Tell me! Tell me what you did with his body, you piece of shit! I know you have him!”

 

He seemed unaffected by her shrill yelling, his stance still relaxed as if he didn’t regard anyone in the room as a real threat. His head was facing you but you were sure the still had an eye on Declan, his guns still aimed at the businessman as you moved yet another step closer. ‘You’re letting your emotions get the best of you querida.’ Serena could hear Gabriel admonishing her, knew that he would never allow her to fight in this condition. But he wasn’t here. 

 

“Alright I’m tired of this”, Declan stated simply, the deep lilting voice of the Englishman drawing the attention of his men. “Please dispose of these two partycrashers, I have to go play damage control and I don’t have all night to listen to this mewling quim and this freak in a mask. Make it quick and then clean up this mess.”

 

The next few moments moved in slow motion, Serena’s mind processing each action separately. Serena twisted herself around and jumped out of the way as Declan’s men opened fire, her thumb pressing hard at the trigger as she sprayed and turned at the same time. Her shield absorbed a bulk of the incoming fire, her own ammo ripping into the legs and chest of the affluent man and his guards. Serena tensed at the sound of shotgun fire over her shoulder, nostalgia forcing itself into her bones as the two began to move in tandem. Serena heard four shots go off, Declan crumpling to the ground in a spray of blood, quickly followed by one of his guards. The dance Serena and the Reaper did was familiar and she couldn’t help but wonder just how long he had stalked Reyes, how many holovids he had watched to move in so similar a fashion to Gabriel. Later, she decided, she would be pissed off about this. Right now she was just focused on surviving. 

 

“Move!”

 

The Reaper snarled at her, his hand grabbing at her shoulder and yanking Serena back and away from a shot that would have found its home in her neck. As soon as his hand touched her shoulder, Serena felt all air leave her lungs, every nerve of her body in shock. Her mating mark burned and her body shivered as if it had been dunked in ice, eyes glazing over and knees going weak. She didn’t feel the burning of a shot passing through her shoulder, nor did she realize that the Reaper was practically howling as he took down the rest of the guards in a plume of black smoke and gunfire. Only one thing thrummed in her mind before she fainted, the forcible reconnection of a bond overwhelming the poor omega. 

  
‘Gabi?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the reunion begin! I promise that after this chapter there will be way ore Reaper than there has been. I do hope you enjoyed reading this!


	4. Bittersweet

“Gabriel?! Ow...fuck…”

 

Consciousness came crashing back to Serena, the woman darting up only to lay back as a sharp pain shot through her shoulder, eyes snapping shut. Serena bit down on her tongue hard to silence the rest of the curses that begged to spill from her lips, left hand cautiously lifting to gingerly touch at her aching, unseen wound. She hissed as her fingers ghosted over a bandage, her body protesting the movement. Aching heat radiated out from beneath the bandage, her fingers carefully tracing around the square piece of sterile gauze affixed to her skin. Serena pulled her hand back and dropped it to the side listlessly, a quiet groan spilling from her lips.

 

Her mind began to tick; taking a mental inventory of everything going around her since she knew she shouldn't move. She was in bed, a subtle shaking of each limb revealing only slight aches and no other severe wounds. She was dressed but extremely lightly, a spaghetti top and shorts if she could guess from the feel of the fabric on her skin. It appeared to be night, that or the lights were out, no discernable light visible behind her closed lids. Serena took a slow, steady breath, sniffing the air. It smelt of herself and blood, the crisp antiseptic scent of biotic ointment and the overwhelming scent of...Gabe?  Memories of last night steadily began to flood in; the party, the fight, confronting Declan and the Reaper, the firefight that ensued, her bond forcibly reconnecting. Serena’s eyes flew open, eyes adjusting to the darkness, heart thundering in her chest. her gaze darted around frantically, unable to silence the distraught keen that forced its way up. His scent was too strong, it was  _ on _ her, it was  _ everywhere  _ in this room. The smell of dark roast and amber and sea salt, of a decade of memories and love and trust. It was  _ her _ mate and he was  _ here _ .

 

Forcing herself into a sitting position, adrenaline dulled her shoulder’s scream of disapproval. She used her left hand to throw the covers off of herself, head dizzy as she tried to kick her legs over the edge of the bed.

 

“Stop moving. You're going to tear your shoulder open.”

 

Serena froze as the voice trickled over her, rougher, grittier but still unmistakably Gabriel’s. Her breath caught in her chest, head turning to look in the direction of the voice, a hard lump of emotion growing in her throat. He sat in a chair--his chair--in the corner of the room--her room at home. He was dressed how he often did, black jeans, his boots still on and a black hoodie with the hood tossed up and over his head. Later she knew she would question how she got back here but Gabriel being here, in their home was at the forefront. 

 

“Gabi”, Serena breathed out, the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks. A storm of emotions brewed inside of her, her left hand rising weakly, pushing the tears off of her cheeks. 

 

Anger was hot and snarling beneath the surface, the need to scream at him only choked back by the fact Serena could barely draw enough air into her lungs to breath. Her brow furrowed hard as she tried to quell the tears that spilled down her cheeks, soft, pained yet relieved sobs slipping past her lips. Serena had dreamt of this moment when she had first heard the news of Gabriel passing, of waking up to find him there and alive and her heart mended by his loving kisses. But two years had past since those dreams, two years of feeling like her soul had been shorn from her body, two years of grieving with practically no reprieve. She was furious but delighted, scared yet excited, her heart breaking and mending at the same exact time. Where had he been these past two years? What had he been doing? Why hadn’t he told her he was alive? Why wouldn’t he come near her?

  
  


“Gabriel”, Serena muttered, voice thick and heavy with emotion, quivering as she tried to rein in control. She fell back to the humor the two of them often communicated with, tears still rolling down her cheeks as she attempted to smile at him. “I-I won’t tear my shoulder open if you come over here...please….Please Gabi...”

 

Gabriel didn’t move at first, his face hidden by the hood, his scent not revealing any discernable twinge of emotion. A quiet whine rose from her chest, the man hesitating before he stood, her eyes staying on him as he walked stiffly from his corner to her side before pausing in front of Serena. His hood was pulled low enough over his face to hid most of his features still, darkness seemingly masking any real view of his face. His hair had gotten much much longer, the thick wavy raven locks resting against his covered collarbone. 

 

What she couldn’t smell in emotion, Serena could sense from him; apprehension, yearning, regret, decisiveness. It was apparent in his body language; he was standing up straight yet his shoulders seemed slightly hunched, his hands opening and closing repeatedly in his pockets like he wanted to grab for her but was stopping himself. Serena hesitated for a moment before her left hand shot out and grabbed Gabriel by the hoodie, yanking him forward and placing her face against his chest. She nuzzled against him, closing her eyes and taking in his scent and the actual  _ feel  _ of his physical presence, her entire body shaking as control was wrested away from her. The knot that formed in her throat choked her for a brief moment before bursting. A keening wail tore itself free from her throat, the high pitched sound of raw emotion muffled against the fabric of hoodie. The hand that rested against Gabriel’s chest gently began to pound against it, anger beginning to slip out with each dull hit. A pained hiccup tore through her as Gabe’s hand came to rest on the back of her head, the movement apprehensive before he began to stroke her braided hair. He crooned soft and low in his chest, a familiar sound that she thought she’d never get to hear again, only pushing her emotions up higher. 

 

“How could you”, Serena whimpered, the pounding against his chest getting weaker with each word. Her head was absolutely spinning, throat tight, chest aching as every vestige of emotional composure gave way to her anguish.  “How could you leave me behind...Y-you promised me ‘n you remember?...an-and you left...Wh-where have you b-b-been? Wh-why didn’t y-ya come back for me, hon? Wh-why?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

His voice was barely above a whisper, his hand stilling in her hair as the apology slipped out low and rumbling, soft and genuine and filled with remorse. The words were bittersweet, exactly what Serena needed to hear but so damned empty without an answer to any of her questions. She pulled her face away from his chest, fury and sadness competing in her gaze as she glared up at him. His hand fell away from her head, dropping weak at his side. He wasn’t cowed by her anger, he understood it, but he wouldn’t back down from it.

 

“I’m sorry”, Serena parroted back incredulously, shaking her head as her eyes narrowed at him, more tears slipping down her already wet cheeks. A harsh, barking somber laugh slipped from her lips, head shaking slowly before her hand took a fist full of his hoodie and shook him weakly. “Sorry? Sorry doesn’t make up for the fact you dr-drugged me while you got blown the fuck up in Switzerland. Sorry doesn’t make up for waking up in an entirely different country--no wait-- _ continent _ , only to have the bad news revealed you by your fucking pup! I  _ mourned _ you Gabriel! If Jesse wasn’t there I probably would have just died! I’d’ve been happy to do so because I lost  _ everything _ . Our job, our home, our fucking life’s work. YOU! I lost you! Do you know how goddamned painful it is to lose your mate? And then constantly think that you should have done something more,  _ anything  _ more but you’ll never,  _ ever  _ get the chance to make up for  _ failing  _ them?!”

 

Serena’s voice became more and more shrill, arms attempting to gesticulate and motion at the man but wincing as her right shoulder screamed at the erratic movement. She hissed, but powered through it, gritting her teeth and taking several shuddering breaths to bridle some of the pain back before sending him a resentful glare. 

 

“O-Oh and then”, she continued, voice dripping with cynicism, her face burning hot as she glared at the shadow of where his face was. “Instead of revealing that your were still alive to me, I have to follow a trail of bullshit breadcrumbs to a man I thought had looted your body and stolen your hard work. I had to hunt the Reaper down and find him and confront him only to find out that he was you and instead of finding me two fucking years ago, you--”

 

A sob choked Serena’s voice away, shoulder shaking once then twice as she tried to force herself to keep talking. 

 

“You moved on and just kept on”, she squeezed out, voice barely above a whisper. Speaking the truth drove an icicle into her heart, coldness spreading through her like a wave, stomach twisting up tighter and tighter. She wrapped both of her arms around midsection, shoulders shaking as she completely lost any and all ability to keep it together. Her hysterics left her face covered in tears and mucus and spittle, no thoughts to appearance or composure on her anguished mind. “Y-you moved on without me an-and you left me and all I wanted was f-for you to come back b-b-but it’s not like you ev-even want me anymore.”

 

Serena flinched as she felt Gabriel’s arms encircle her, pulling her tight against his body, careful of her wound. She could feel his chest rising and falling like it did when he was trying to control an outburst, the omega too tired to force him away.  Between her wound and the emotional tidal wave that overtook her, she felt utterly exhausted. His scent smelt sharper, like petrichor before an intense storm, a clear sign that he was upset. Her eyes slipped closed as she listened to his breathing, refusing to fall asleep before hearing some kind of explanation. 

 

“Never”, he began, squeezing her a bit harder, his voice tight with control. “Never say that I don’t want you anymore. I never, for a minute, stopped  _ wanting _ you, stopped  _ loving _ you cariño. I  _ couldn’t  _ come back, dammit. I shouldn’t even fucking be here--”

 

“What are you talking about Gabriel”, Serena interrupted, brow furrowing in confusion, the omega forcing her eyes back open. Her voice was soft yet hard, not permitting the lack of an answer. Gabriel went still for a pregnant moment before one of his hands pulled away from her back, Serena’s head tipping up to see what he was doing. His movements were cautious and deliberate, his hand finding the edge to his hood and pulling it back, revealing his face to Serena. Her eyes went round as she finally was able to see him, fresh, stunned tears springing to her eyes. Lifting her good hand, her palm gentle cradled his cheek, her eyes dancing over his features before locking with his. “Good god Gabe….”

 

Smoke or shadows, she couldn’t tell in the darkness of the room, curled off of his skin in small tendrils and waves. It curled around and stroked her hand, the coils gliding across her skin cool and smooth like silk, making goosebumps rise on her skin. He always had a rich warm and red undertone to his sepia skin, but even in the low light it looked as if the color had been replaced by a much cooler tone. He had more scars littered across his cheekbones, across his nose and his lips. Strands of his dark hair hung in his face, his beard surprisingly neatly groomed unlike the hair on his head. What gave Serena the most pause, however, was his eyes, his brow furrowed and gaze unwavering. Inky blackness had taken over the sclera of his eyes, no white from what she could see. The warm chocolate brown color of his eyes were now sanguine, a deep crimson that rivaled the the color of freshly spilled blood. While his lips were slightly downturned in a uncaring frown, his eyes betrayed his emotions. He was uncertain and afraid yet expectant, waiting for her to flinch away from him, rebuke him. There was a self-loathing behind his gaze, an internal struggle of self-hatred at the monster he had become. 

 

Even with all the anger still brewing within her, even with all the frustration and tears she had cried for him, the mourning. She couldn’t hurt him, not purposefully and she, even with all the questions running through her mind, turn him away. Despite his hardass tendencies, his resting bitch face, his ruthless reputation, Gabriel was extremely emotional. Her hand rose a bit higher, fingers lightly combing through his hair, twisting the locks around her fingers. She smiled lovingly yet melancholically up at her mate, falling back to their safe zone once more. 

 

“Two years isn’t an excuse to stop cutting your hair you Hot Topic reject”, Serena muttered quietly, a weak chuckle following her words. Surprise flashed across his features, before his lips upturned ever so slightly, his changed eyes slipping closed for half a second before his other hand wrapped around her once more. A quiet, relieved purr started deep in his chest as Serena stroked his cheek and hair, her gaze tired but unyielding. “What did you mean you cannot be here, Gabe?”

 

The slight uptick in his lips dropped once more, the moment too painfully short, his gaze tearing away from hers. He opened his mouth and released a slow breath, black smoke pouring from his lips like air on a winter day. He grit his teeth, a low angry growl rumbling from her chest and reverberating through Serena’s body. 

 

“Talon”, he hissed out, more smoke pouring off of him as he tried to quell the anger he was feeling. “Conscripted me.”


End file.
